Lowethien skipped from the top, zipping 'round and 'round. The pixie found a faded circle in the rock, bounding off a gnarled root in the ground. "Time's a circle!" he thought, "We just shape stories printed in them-"
"...to affix chronologies minds can ponder: a beginning with respect to its perceived ending," capped an elder voice from behind, startling Lowethien.
And indeed, in light of eternity, where Time is cast no stage, which is which? Curtains shut, and after the call, even space-time fabric loses its role. Yet this vacuum is where magic happens, and when you start to heal.
About the Creator
Babbling Dixie
The short form of tomorrow is never the whole story. Abbreviations mean nothing when we are born to die and we all are aren't we? Being spoken for before birth is something we're not supposed to remember like some kind of karma after effect. Still here we are spending our lives looking for each other.
By Canuck Scriber Lisa Lachapelle3 days ago in Fiction
Where Magic
Mrs. Periwinkle plucked a ripe apple from the tree and tossed it in her basket. She took the apples and headed inside. She mashed up a couple of apples and concocted her own apple cider. Next, she sat under her apple tree and read from her book of poetry. The bluebirds in the sky chirped their happy songs for her. Her brawny husband Sam came into sight. He waved at her and smiled warmly. “Greetings my love,” he said. “How do you do my sweet,” she asked. “Labor is long and hard but seeing your face makes it all worthwhile,” he confessed. “Your flattery knows no bounds,” Mrs. Periwinkle said. He bent down and kissed her cheek.“You make me blush as if I was a school girl again,” she confessed. From her crystal ball watched a woman equally as beautiful as Lorna Periwinkle. However, she is ugly in her heart. She grimaced as she watched this mushy scene. She turned to her pet raven named Midnight and said,“Don’t it make you sick?” “Someone’s jealous?” Midnight retorted. Storm, the witch’s black cat rubbed against her leg. The witch was named Sienna Cedar. She bent down and petted her cat. “Why can’t you be sweet like Storm?” she asked. “He’s only nice to you because you feed him,” Midnight squawked. “Can I eat the bird now?” Storm asked licking his lips. “You wouldn’t dare, tuna breath,” Midnight said. “Graveyard lurcher,” Storm shot back. “That’s enough you two,” Sienna said. “we’re a family; we shouldn’t fight.” The cat and the raven grumbled.
By DJ Robbinsabout 15 hours ago in Fiction
A Transparent Look at Vocal Challenges and Top Stories
Almost three years ago, we shared a resource article that served as a place for people to suggest new challenge prompts. We thought it would be a good idea to refresh that thread, and take the opportunity to answer a few common questions about top stories, how challenges are judged and how submissions are reviewed.
By Vocal Curation Team7 days ago in Resources
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